#ryan brenner: just a place

[russosafehaven]

william thurber with a writer s/o who he does illustrations for. the two of them spend hours working on books together and spending hours in stationery stalls. dates to libraries and parks to find inspiration. they spend hours in the city figuring out the best way to portray the worlds they build together.

billy russo with a writer s/o who he encourages to quit their job to focus on their novel. offering to supply them with whatever they need. buying first class tickets to places like paris so that the scenery can be accurate.

the darkling with a writer s/o who’s also a fabrikator. they bind their own books and that’s how the darkling discovered them. his copy of “Lives of Saints” was damaged and Fedyor suggested a Fabrikator who specialised in books. he finds you working on your own novel in your chambers. you’re shocked at first to see him but when he gives you his request you’re more then happy for help. aleksander sits there while he watches you work, finding a page of one of your novels and reading it. by the time you’re done he’s asking for a copy to read on his next deployment

logan delos with a writer s/o who works for delos. they always have a book on hand and write the best storyline’s for westworld. in fact this specific writer has written logan’s favourite storyline’s. they catch his eye in the elevator where they’re reading a beat up copy of little women. later logan shows up in their office, prying into their personal life and somehow they end up on a date to westworld.

caspian x with a writer s/o who works in the royal library. they know every book off by heart and are full of random facts. when caspian is first crowned they’re the one who gives him a book on old narnian traditions. this leads to caspian begging them to come work in the narnian royal library. reluctantly they agree and they’re astonished by the size of it. caspian finds them writing one moment and he asks about it, they talk for hours about the world they’re writing and caspian offers to bring them on the dawntreader to add depth.

benjamin greene with a writer s/o who’s a friend of leo’s and that’s how they meet. they spend most of their time with leo, curled up with him watching the while they write. one day benjamin asks about it and they give him the journal. he returns it the next day gushing about their writing and even leo can see that they’re a better match for benjamin then his mother is. leo confronts benjamin, telling him to break up with julia and ask reader on a date. telling the bespectacled man that they’re a far better suit for him. that night benjamin goes to bed thinking about leo’s words. a few months later reader is getting their first novel published thanks to benjamin’s help.

ryan brenner with a writer s/o who he meets on a train one day. they get to talking and it turns out they’re both drifters. reader tells ryan about what they’re working on at that moment and they end up in a small town somewhere. ryan works on his music while reader works on their novel, it all flows together. eventually they just fit into each other lives perfectly. the lines between friendship and romance are blurred but it works for their unconventional lifestyle.

[the-blind-assassin-12]

my hyper fixations have changes drastically in the 10-12+yrs I've been on this hell site, but my love and adoration for the people I have met along the way has never waned. Hope life's been giving you nothing but 4 leaf clovers and beautiful sea glass (I'd say filled with dreams of the quietly strong Ryan Brenner but you seem to have moved on from him, so IDK Oberyn who wasn't showboating and survived that fight like he SHOULD HAVE lol)... that's all

Anon, (even though I *think* I know who you are) I just want you to know that this message made such a huge difference to me in the last few days. I’ve been having a really rough go of things and not been in a good place mentally or emotionally at all, and this note sitting in my inbox has given me something to smile about. Thank you for spreading your kindness and giving me a reason to smile even when things have not been great. I hope you are doing well and that people are as bright and caring and kind to you as you are to others.

Also? I would never turn down Ryan Brenner OR Oberyn Martell. Ever. 🖤

[nopefun]

Interview #495: Quince Pan

q: Give a short introduction of yourself: a: I am Quince Pan, a documentary photographer born in 2000, currently based in Singapore. I am now waiting to enter university to study Philosophy, Politics and Economics.

q: What is your series "JBM" about? What was the process of making the series? a: “JBM”, my family’s abbreviation of “Jalan Bukit Merah”, is a documentary photo project centred on my maternal grandmother, Lau Giok Niu, her cultural heritage and her HDB flat where I spent my childhood under her care. It is my first exhibited series and also my first serious long-term documentary project.

In 2015, I followed my grandmother to visit her hometown in Fengwei, Quangang District, Quanzhou City, Fujian, China. Bringing my camera along on the trip, I noticed that instead of shooting purely for fun or beauty, I would include certain objects (for example, a calendar on the wall) in my frames because they had historical significance. I submitted those Fengwei photos as my portfolio for the 2016 Noise Art Mentorship (Photography and Moving Images). I got selected, and my mentor, Jean Qingwen Loo, urged me to pursue a project which I could speak authentically about. Through her criticism, I learnt to further prioritise meaning over style. My grandmother and my childhood were topics close to my heart, especially as she cared for me during my childhood and gave me the gift of the 头北 Thâu-pak dialect, a unique variant of Hokkien from the Quangang District. Eventually, “JBM” was born as my mentorship capstone, and was exhibited at the “Between Home and Home” Noise Art Mentorship Showcase at Objectifs in 2017. I haven’t stopped shooting; that’s why it’s an ongoing long-term project!

“JBM” contains a range of visual styles, ranging from photojournalistic fly-on-the-wall documentations of heated family discussions and visits by distant relatives from China to more tender images of sunlight at the void deck where my late grandfather’s wake was held in 2006. Rituals and festivities are anthropologically significant, so I pay particular attention to Chinese New Year, the Qing Ming Festival and the Winter Solstice, which my family celebrates. I also look at how other photographers document their families: Bob Lee, Nicky Loh, Bernice Wong, Brian Teo and Nancy Borowick.

More broadly, “JBM'' extends beyond photography and is a family history project. Since 2013, I have been researching the Quangang district, 头北 Thâu-pak dialect and my grandmother’s clan. I discovered that other descendants from her clan established an ancestral temple in Singapore, which initially stood on Craig Road but is now housed in a flat in Telok Blangah. I already did some fieldwork, interviews and preliminary documentation, which led to an article I published in April 2021 in Daojia: Revista Eletrônica de Taoismo e Cultura Chinesa. Maybe I will explore this in greater depth in future photo projects!

q: How did you get into photography? a: When I was around seven years old, I loved to play with my father’s Fujifilm compact. As a young student, I hadn’t heard of terms such as “light painting”, “Dutch angle” and “rule of thirds”, but those were the techniques I subconsciously used in my photographs. 

I entered the Noise Art Mentorship, as previously mentioned. During the school holidays, I worked as a media intern at Logue and as an assistant at Objectifs for the “Passing Time” exhibition and book by Lui Hock Seng. Through these work experiences, I learnt so much from Jean Loo, Yang Huiwen, Ryan Chua, Lim Mingrui and Chris Yap: news angles, editorial writing, scanning and touching up negatives and slides, colour management for print, liaising with clients and issuing invoices, among other skills. As part of the Noise Art Mentorship, I was given a copy of “+50” by the PLATFORM collective, which opened my eyes to diverse approaches within the documentary genre. I started to regularly attend talks at Objectifs and DECK, where I got to know people in the local photography scene, particularly in the documentary tradition.

q: You also do videography. How do you see it in relation to your photography? a: Videography requires a different way of seeing and thinking compared to photography, because video has additional temporal and auditory dimensions. With photography, I don’t have to think about how long I want a scene to be, what foley and B-roll I want to overlay, or have a storyboard in my head before heading out to shoot. In that sense, photography is more reactive to and receptive of situational contingencies because it requires less pre-planning. 

Also, photography can be a solitary endeavour, but it is quite difficult to make films alone, and the schoolmates I used to make films with have since embarked on separate paths in life. However, photography and videography share the same basics as visual media: composition and sequencing.

Fundamentally, I see myself as a documentarian, and this applies to any medium I work in, be it photography or videography, or even writing. The end goal is to record and share history by telling stories from lesser-known perspectives. Thus, the topics of my video projects are similar to the topics of my photo projects; sometimes I do both side by side! The films I made were all documentary shorts of places which do not exist anymore, such as the Hup Lee coffee shop at 114 Jalan Besar and the old Sembawang Hot Spring before NParks took over the site from MINDEF and redeveloped it. 

Currently, I am working as a videographer for Sing Lit Station’s poetry.sg archive. Thankfully, this job can be done solo!

q: What or who is inspiring you right now? a: Bob Lee, for being an amazing father and spreading hope and joy to others through his images. Alex and Rebecca Webb, for pairing literature with photography. Tom Brenner, for approaching photojournalism like street photography. Sim Chi Yin, for her international achievements and being both an academic and a practitioner. Brian Teo, for being an eminent contemporary. Last but not least, Kevin WY Lee’s advice, “CPR: Craft, Point, Rigour”, which I try to benchmark my work against.

q: Upcoming projects or ideas? a: Nothing concrete on my mind so far. I am just going to see where life takes me and what topics life makes me want to explore or talk about.

q: Any music to recommend? a: First and foremost, my fight song: “倔强 Stubborn” by Mayday. A close second, Queen’s 1986 “Under Pressure” live performance at Wembley is a transformative experience. The catchy “他夏了夏天 He Summered Summer” by Sodagreen brings out the grandeur in the mundane. “Silhouette” by KANA-BOON and “Everybody’s Changing” by Keane remind me of the fragility of life and time. I also like The Fray, Kings of Leon, Last Dinosaurs, Stephanie Sun, Tanya Chua, and the Taiwanese indie band DSPS.

his website.

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[yespolkadotkitty]

Long Way to Go - Chapter 1

Ryan Brenner x OFC, Grace Lin

THANKYOU so much to @the-blind-assassin-12 for casting an eye over this and for friendship and enthusiasm and thankyou to @suchatinyinfinity and @something-tofightfor for being so friendly!

W/C: 1550 ~ Warnings: None? General audiences.

-----

It was hot as hell.

Sweat trickled down the back of my neck as I checked the thermometer in the pastry display case. Melted cream cakes didn’t sell, and I had to keep the served-cold meat bao from spoiling, but at least the fortune cookies, red bean cakes and mochi would be good for hours.

People bustled past, some holding mini electric fans, others cooling themselves with tall iced drinks from the nearby Starbucks.

I took a deep drink from my water bottle. I’d topped up the ice cubes just ten minutes ago and they were already just a memory.

The two girls I employed cleaned tables, their hair scooped up out of their faces, chattering about some party they were off to later, and which popular boys would be attending. Their giggling made me feel every one of my thirty-two years.

The overhead fan whirled silently as the bell above the door tinkled musically, letting in a gaggle of teenagers. They kept me busy for the next few minutes, ordering a bunch of fortune cookies and bao, barely looking up from their phones as they paid me.

As one of the teenagers pulled the shop door open, a gasp of music broke my train of thought (mango or green tea cookies tomorrow?). Curious, I peered out of the window.

On the street corner, sitting against the trunk of a large tree planted in the sidewalk, a man played guitar and sang.

His head was down, but thick, dark hair peeked out from under his battered hat, the brim shading his face from view.

His voice was deep and melancholy, and it pulled at something inside me. I kept the door open, listening.

Quite a little crowd had gathered around him. His fingers danced over the guitar strings effortlessly, his low, sultry voice carrying to me on what little there was of a breeze in New York in July.

I got lost in the lyrics for a moment, and must have leaned on the door too hard. The bell tinkled and I had to hang on to avoid falling face first on the pavement.

Smooth, Lin. Real smooth.

Without skipping a beat, the busker glanced my way. His eyes were the very dark brown of expensive Swiss chocolate, concern shining in their depths.

I smiled to let him know I was okay, and his gaze moved over me for a moment. I felt every second. His eyes smiled first, and then as he finished the last note in a line, his lips curved, too, a dimple flashing above his scruffy beard, and oh. I was a goner. He was the most beautiful man I’d seen in a long time, and this was NYC, so that was saying something.

“Hey, Earth to Grace! You gonna stand there all day?”

The Brooklyn twang jerked me back to reality and I blinked, looking into the face of my delivery guy. “Sorry, Mikey.”

The bulky Asian-American grinned, casting a thumb at the busker.  “He’s all right.”

I tore my gaze away again. “He sure is.”

Mikey wheeled his little hand truck to the storeroom and started to unload as I served a young woman who had questions about allergies. She read my ingredients lists and decided on three pork floss buns, the ones hot from the heated plate. Just going near it made me near-recoil with the steam that bathed my face.

As the customer paid and I thanked her, clipping a business card to the paper bag, I glanced out at the busker. He was drinking from a water bottle, his head tipped back to expose the line of his neck. The bottle was near-empty.

“Hey, Kristi?” 

One of the girls I employed stopped mid-chatter to her colleague about someone called Dwayne and how dreamy he looked in a football jersey, and whipped her head round to me.

“Can you man the counter for a sec?”

She bobbed her head yes and we swapped places. I grabbed a bottle of water from the tall fridge by the door, the shaped plastic cold against my palm. I hesitated, then grabbed another.

The wall of heat enveloped me as soon as I stepped out of the door.

The busker looked up at the sound of the bell, shoulders bunching in his worn white t-shirt as I approached, as if steeling himself for something.

The crowd had thinned between songs, people put off from standing by the sheer heat of a New York summer, but the open guitar case held a bundle of notes, some fives and tens, as well as several scatterings of coins.

“Hi,” I greeted him. “Ma’am,” he drawled, softly. His smile seemed easy, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

I suspected that he was wondering if I was gearing up to threaten to call the police on his ass. 

I wasn’t.

I held out the bottles of water. “Thought you might be thirsty.”

“Sure am.” He smiled up at me, fingers drumming on his thigh, but he didn’t attempt to take the water. “‘S very kind of you.”

You stepped closer, offering the bottles and he finally took them from me . His hands brushed mine, his skin warm and tan, a little rough. I noticed the unusual ink on his fingers, wanted to ask, but politeness stopped me.

“Your music is beautiful,” I said as he unscrewed the first bottle, the second held between his knees.

“Thank you, ma’am.” He took a deep drink, and I tried not to feel like a letch, admiring the line of his neck, the bob of his Adam’s apple. “‘S a nice bakery you got there.”

“Thanks. I, um, never thought it’d be a thing. You know? When you dream about something for so long and when it finally comes true, you can’t believe it?”

He met my gaze. “Can’t say I know a whole lot about that.”

For the first time, I took in his attire properly - large burlap backpack, battered army-style boots, the laces frayed, the near-threadbare edges of his hat. “God. I’m so sorry, I’m such an idiot-”

He shook his head, a shy little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Don’ be. I like it better when folks don’t have to watch their every word ‘round me. I’m Ryan.”

“I’m Grace. The idiot.” I offered a hand and he shook it, and his palm was wide and warm, a little calloused, and sparks of awareness slid up my arm.

“Do you often play around here?” I gestured to the little stretch of the Chinatown of Flushing, Queens, that my bakery sat on.

“No, ma’am. I’m a traveller. Been t’ New York before, but not this particular spot.”

“And how is this particular spot?”

Ryan drummed his fingers on his guitar thoughtfully. “‘S good. Folk are nice, for the most part.” He started on the second bottle of water, his tongue flicking out to over bottom lip after he drank. “Hot as hell, though, and I say that as a Southern boy.”

I opened my mouth to ask where in the South he hailed from, but Kristi appeared in the doorway of my shop. “Grace? Sorry, Mikey needs the auth code for this delivery.”

“Oh, sure.” I turned back to Ryan. “It was good to meet you. Your music is really fantastic.”

He ducked his head, smiling, a little shy. “Mighty kind of you, ma’am.”

By this point another little crowd had gathered, waiting to hear him sing, and I left them to it. I wished I could have the shop door open to hear him, but that would defeat the point of air conditioning.

But even so, throughout the afternoon, I kept glancing over, seeing him still there, singing. During a busy point I asked Kristi to go and bring him another bottle of water, and I saw the smile he flashed her, feeling jealous of the attention, and called myself utterly ridiculous for it. I hadn’t even known Ryan existed a couple of hours ago.

Customers thinned out. It was a weekday, and business always slowed down around six pm. I shut at seven, so at six-thirty I sent Kristi and Susan home. As they opened the door, I caught a line of song in Ryan’s soft, smooth drawl.

Nine hundred more miles, and I’ll be doin’ just fine-

When he finished, after the small crowd had dropped dollar bills and murmured their appreciation, I called out to him.

“You want to come inside? Have a cold drink? Use the air con?”

I saw the hesitation flick over his face, the trepidation mixed with curiosity, and in the end, the latter must’ve won, because he stood up.

“That’s it for today, ladies and gentlemen,” I heard him say to the people circled around him. A man tossed a couple of bills in his guitar case, and Ryan touched his hat in thanks.

The listeners dispersed, and Ryan settled his guitar in his case like a mother swaddling her baby; with utmost gentleness. And then he looked up, smiling, that dimple winking, and walked towards me.

Taglist: @agirllovespancakes

[fific7]

WIP Game - Previews

Requested by @theshadowkingsqueen - TY!

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My first attempt 😳 at writing for my sweet cupcake. There are such amazing Ryan Brenner fics out there from my favourite writers, but I decided to give it a go. This is intended to be a mini-series.

Open Roads

Ryan lay on his back in the open rail car, hands behind his head which was propped on his rucksack, and stared up into the blue beyond. The sky looked extra big today. Just a few fluffy white clouds floated across his vision as the train clanked its way over the points, changing direction and continuing its journey onwards to Sacramento.

Suddenly his thoughts of what he’d do when he arrived there were interrupted by something just as wonderful. Clear as a bell in his mind’s eye… a vision.

Of her. Looking up at him, her face partially nestled into the pillow, her lips slightly parted, his lips ghosting across them before his kisses became urgent.

He felt a thrill run through every vein as his mind supplied the memory of him making love to her. Her soft cries as he moved on her. Their climaxes, a short moment apart, hearing her calling his name in her sweet voice. His legs snapped together as arousal made itself felt in a physical way as well as in his thoughts.

He missed her. She’d been like oxygen to him, the few short weeks he’d spent with her. But he’d still felt the pull of the open roads, the need to move along out and onto the next adventure, those six months ago. And so he’d gone. He could still remember the sight of unshed tears in her eyes, his mirroring hers. But he’d gone, left. Hitching along the highways and trudging along dirt roads until he’d hopped his next train.

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This is a Logan Delos x Reader oneshot, based on Let You Know by Flume ft. English Grammar.

Let You Know

You wanna let me know

Now that you've let me go

Life is better still

And I guess somehow

You'll just keep on coming back

Juliet’s hand hovered over her phone for a few moments, then she squared her shoulders and picked it up. Logan wouldn’t do it, that was for sure. But she couldn’t watch her beloved (but infuriating) brother suffer in silence any longer. He was four months out of rehab and she was petrified that he’d relapse. If she could just help him along just a little bit with this, then she would. She didn’t intend to meddle any further than this phone call, she’d take a step back and it would be up to Logan after that.

She peered out into the garden, a big lawned area with a pool and flowering shrubs running down to the edge of a bluff and with a stunning view out to sea. She was glad Logan still had this place at Malibu. He seemed to relax here. She looked fondly at her brother’s lanky frame sprawled out on the sun lounger, looked back down at the phone and hit a contact number on her speed dial.

It rang for a few moments before it was answered by a woman, her voice saying “Juliet?” with a puzzled tone in it. Juliet took a deep breath and started speaking.

The call ended maybe 15 minutes later, and Juliet felt slightly more optimistic. She’d at least elicited a “Maybe” from her. She looked back out to where Logan was now sitting at the end of the lounger, hands dangling between his knees and gazing out at the ocean. She saw a sigh lift his shoulders slightly, and knew he was thinking about the woman she’d just spoken to.

She in turn sighed. I mean, the whole situation was entirely down to him, the stupid big fool, she thought. It was all his own damn fault.

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Hopefully appearing soon, and thanks again for requesting! 🌹🖤🌹

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[suchatinyinfinity]

#7 for all three.

Must know. For science.

Hi, Alyssa! I am super excited to answer this question for Billy, Ryan, and, Benjamin and I put (probably too much) thought into it, but hey. It’s for science.

7. Their tickle spots: 

Billy Russo: Billy would never admit he’s ticklish, but his tickle spot is the arches of his feet. He may have walked an infinite amount of steps when he was in the military, probably ended up with some gnarly callouses, etc. but I’m sure Billy the Beaut wouldn’t be caught with rough, nasty feet. Anyway, the soles of his feet are marginally ticklish, but the inside arches themselves? Viciously ticklish.

Ryan Brenner: Ryan and his overgrown beard, sigh. My true love. When he’s more or less just scruffy than bearded, the underside of his chin down the column of his throat is his tickle spot. He can be kissed there without squirming (from tickling, anyway) unless there’s a tiny, light peppering of kisses placed there, in which case he’s laughing despite himself. (Then, there’s that start of his treasure trail just below his belly button, but that’s more or less a secret.)

Benjamin Greene: Benjamin’s tickle spots-- he has two-- are firstly, that spot just below his earlobe, and his sides. An unexpected poke of the ribs or having a hand brush his side will send him dissolving into that miserable laughter that only tickling can bring forth. He’s very sensitive to tickling. 

[binbons-character-stuff]

1K FOLLOWER EVENT!!!!

I am so grateful that 1000 of you wonderful people want to read my stories about Benny’s characters! For the celebration, I wanted to do something a little different from the title fics, so we’re going to do Prompt Improv! Those of you who follow @hermioneshandbag​ and @logans-chestnuts​ may be familiar with this, but for my new friends, here we go!

How it Works:

There will be a list of dialogue prompts, places and scenarios. You will pick one or two dialogue prompts, one place and one scenario. I will improvise a drabble or short fic based on your choices. 

Choose a Ben Barnes Character

Choose one or two dialogue prompts

Choose a place

Choose a scenario

Also:

Please follow this blog

Reblog this post

Check out my other blogs if you’d like

Send me an ask with your choices

No anons this time around so I get to everyone’s request, but if you let me know, I will post without your name.

Send in as many as you want, and I may write more than one of your choices!

Blacklist #binbons 1k follower event if you don’t want to see more about this

The Lists

Characters

Billy Russo

Ryan Brenner

Benjamin Greene

John Whittaker

Sam Adams

Caspian X

Nick Tortano

Tom Ward

Dialogue

“Well! You always know how to brighten up my day!”

“I’d rather count the freckles on your nose.”

“Who’s a good boy??!!”

“Is this seat taken?”

“The bed is taking up the whole space. What exactly did you have in mind?”

“Wellll!! This just got really interesting.”

“Did you really just say that?”

“Are you bleeding?”

“Please pass the cyanide, I don't want to go on living.”

“I hope it was worth it.”

“No, you don't get to say that, not now.”

“I can do this all day.”

“I need a nap.”

“Do you really think that's a good idea?”

“I’m allergic.”

“Clean it up!”

“Was that supposed to make me swoon?”

“I can't stop!”

“We need a lot more practice.”

“If we survive this I am going to kill you.”

“Oh, and I suppose it's my fault?”

You sure you know what you’re doing?”

“Yeah, right there.”

“You gonna eat that?”

“Do you ever stop talking?”

“Look, don't ask any questions, just run!”

“Are you crying?”

“My eyes are up here.”

“What is that purplish mark on your neck?”

“Am I going to run into you everywhere now?”

“I never thought closets could be so exciting.”

“What in the world is that?”

“Please give me a chance to explain.”

“It’s not what it looks like.”

“I can’t believe you kept this all these years.”

“Why is your hair orange??!!”

"What's in it for me?"

“Are you planning to wear that in public?”

“Oh, no you don't!”

“How dare you!”

“Chocolate solves everything.”

“Exactly how drunk are you?”

“It wouldn't be the same without you.”

“Stop that, people will see!”

"Sorry, one's more than enough for me."

"Scoot over next to me and nobody will see anything."

"Do you always have to take everything too far?"

"You're dead to me!"

"You are quite possibly the very dumbest person in the long and storied history of dumb people."

“Ma’am, is this your dog?”

“No, it’s really not that complicated. He’s a bad person.”

“Hey… what’s wrong with your face?”

“The king is missing.”

“Ah yes, come in. Close the door behind you.”

“How could you do this to me?”

“Um, sorry. That one’s not for sale.”

“You’ve got thirty seconds to explain to me what you’re doing here.”

“Ain’t nobody ever told you who your real daddy is?”

“I know this may be hard to believe, but I’m on your side.”

“Never heard of that being used as a murder weapon before.”

“Just sit around and cry, then. I don’t have that luxury.”

“I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

“That’s the nice thing about telling the truth. You don’t have nearly as much to keep track of.”

“Of course we’re best friends. No one else would put up with our shenanigans.”

“That’s the least of your worries.”

“Do you trust me?”

“You found it on the beach? You know, when most people take a walk on the beach, they pick up seashells.”

“Sir. This is for children only.”

“I haven’t tried this on a human yet, but it should be very similar.”

“What? I meant it as a compliment.”

“Who put this in my coat pocket?”

“I can’t do this any more."

“I know you did your best, but it just wasn’t enough.”

“Even if I could stop it, I wouldn’t.”

“You have got to see this.”

“I don’t really think of myself as a thief…”

“Are you just going to keep walking by or are you going to come in?”

“Please return to your assigned seat.”

“Dude. It’s 3 in the morning.”

“I can’t believe I used to think he was attractive.”

“Where are your clothes?”

“Well, you have me here. What now, pray tell?"

“I can’t believe I’m telling you this.”

“I should have told you this a long time ago.”

“I am only telling the truth when I say that you have not behaved completely as a gentleman in this matter.”

“I thought we were friends!”

“I thought I loved you, but I don’t even think I know who you really are.”

“She’s evil, but she does have a point there.”

“I didn’t know you could talk.”

“Sweetie, what were you thinking?”

“What makes you think it was an accident?”

“I know you’re here. You may as well show yourself.”

“This isn’t going to be a typical best man speech.”

“We thought at first that it was part of the performance.”

“I would break his thumbs right now if I could.”

“Why are you helping me?”

“That’s the worst reason I’ve ever heard to have a baby.”

“I didn’t even recognize you!”

“Is it worth breaking your vows over?”

“I told you not to read that.”

“Put the turkey down.”

“I didn’t ask to be abducted.”

“That’s the most disgusting thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Where did you learn how to do that?”

“I thought you had him!”

“Humility is not one of my many virtues.”

“How can you stand living here?”

“You don’t have the correct paperwork.”

“Careful not to break the—oh.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything, but yes.”

“Well aren’t you the cutest little thing?”

“Please don’t use sarcasm. It confuses me to think you're capable of wit.”

“After we lost you, things just weren’t the same.”

“If you were logical you would’ve killed me already.”

“Well, that could’ve gone better.”

“Sometimes I feel like she’s still at my side.”

“We’ve been waiting two hours.”

“Your services are no longer required.”

“I feel like we’ve met before…”

“Does he hit you?”

“Yes, it’s a questionable line of work, but I’m good at it.”

“She’s in the building.”

“Wow! It’s an honor to meet you.”

“I’m cured. I swear.”

“My chances of living to a ripe old age are unfortunately excellent.”

“Let’s face it, you don’t exactly blend in.”

“Forgive me if I’m misreading things, but do you want to kiss me?”

“Seriously?”

“That does not look good.”

“You were in an accident. Can you tell me your name?”

“Pretend to be here with me, this creep won't leave me alone!”

“Is that a gun/knife/crossbow in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

"I can't believe you did that!"

“That is the worst line I have ever heard.”

“The next time you break the law, don’t do it in front of so many witnesses.”

“Sometimes being a total bookworm pays off.”

Places

Hallway

Sidewalk

Lake cottage

Hospital

Your residence

Restaurant

Wedding

Funeral

Jail

The beach

A Society function/ball

The Forest

A cave

the mountains

A ship

A shop

a park

Library

An attic

A bar or pub

Scenarios

Reunion

Injured In a fight

Best friends to lovers

Stranded together

Drunk

Jealousy

You’re his tutor

Meet the parents

Waiting Room

Cooking/baking

Kidnapped

Blackmail

Mistaken identity

Both reaching for the last one

Forbidden love

Belated love epiphany

Road trip romance

Second chance

The one that got away

Marriage of convenience

Lose a bet

Wingman fail

Bodyguard

[beavercovehq]

JOHNNIE TANAKA was born on the 19TH OF JANUARY in the year 1996. They work as a REPORTER FOR THE COVE CHRONICLES. JOHNNIE’s pronouns are HE/HIM. fc: ryan potter { played by tommy, 23, they/them, pst }

HEADCANONS

He grew up in Halifax, Nova Scotia, with two parents who got married too young and too immature to deal with each other. Now that he thinks of it, divorce was the most mature thing either of them did. Mr. Tanaka was avoidant and careful with his work. Ms. ‘nee Brenner constantly looked for distractions and excuses to keep secrets. After their divorce, they both tried to change. Cue the attempts of parenting from Ms. Brenner and random road trips from Mr. Tanaka. It was very confusing.

He’s had one solid girlfriend in college, and he found her to be clingy and emotionally confusing. Naturally, he broke it off with her near the end of college. He tried to make his way in New York City, but he found the whole place too big and complicated, and he got weirdly homesick. In that fit of homesickness, he reconnected with his ex. That was a mistake.

He learned quickly that the way to make it as a reporter is to start in a small town. So, he picked Beaver’s Cove. Small enough for him to actually take a slot in the local newspaper, but interesting enough that his portfolio won’t be comprised of totally boring stories.

He has a penchant for developing half-hearted connections and one-night stands, and he finds that he can get bored pretty easily. That’s half the reason half the town girls’ numbers are in his mental Rolodex. When he’s not engaging himself in that type of hobby, he takes an interest in the music scene and local city politics.

How does your character feel about the drownings? Do they think it’s accidental thing or a conspiracy? Please explain position.

He thinks it’s a very bizarre coincidence. But… sometimes he wonders if the second drowning was someone else’s attempt to mimic the first, and the third drowning is someone new trying to mimic the second.

But that’s just a running theory. He’s not sure if he, a newbie reporter, can really pin down the truth.

What was your character’s childhood like? Are they close with their family? Are they estranged? Do they have siblings? Are they adopted? Do they have a found family? Tell us about who they call family.

His parents are divorced, and he’s an only child. His mother had a tendency to carry out short term affairs that she forced Johnnie to hide, and his father tended to throw himself into his work – his professorial work.

His tendency to want those that understood his situation made him “adopt” siblings, so to speak. Other only children, those who grew up in foster homes, other kids with divorced parents… those are people he considers his “siblings.” Or so-called cousins, at the very least.

What is the first thing someone notices about your character?

He looks a little bit aloof, but perks up immediately the second you get his attention. And, as he gets comfortable, he takes on a cool, relaxed demeanor more befitting a surfer guy than one of a reporter in a town famous for its drowning.

But even that’s a mask.

[madamrogersstorytelling]

Return the Lost Spirit

Ryan Brenner/Reader

Winter Celebration #2

I finally got to writing these requests! I’m never gonna be able to write them all for Christmas but the holidays go on after Christmas too, so there’s no reason to panic.

I thought this was cute. Buying presents for people is rarely easy. I just finished shopping today and it was a little painful haha. I have seen these things mentioned in the fic a lot this year and thought writing about them would be very cute. The most recent time was today, sadly there was hardly any of the favorite ones left. Could probably buy one for myself too.

I hope you all have a good holiday time and whenever you’re having this holiday, I hope it’s full of happiness and love! I’m sort of back and want to thank you all sweeties for being here. This was requested by @suchatinyinfinity​ for the cutest boy Ryan Brenner. He’s such a sweetheart.

Words: 2859

2. ”Climb on my shoulders”

8. ”There’s a mistletoe… Should we… You know?”

10. ”Is this for me?”

You hated Christmas shopping. There was something almost infuriating in it; if buying presents for the people you loved was nice, the amount of people everywhere around you was the infuriating part.

And every single Christmas you were on the move too late, when there were so many people you could hardly even turn around on your steps without hitting someone’s shoulder or making someone drop everything they were holding.

Then they said the British taxi drivers could turn their cars around a coin… When you couldn’t turn around in a crowd.

Everything was even worse when you hadn’t thought of what to buy for people in advance. You always went to the stores “to see would there be something that’d give you the feeling of being the one for this and this person”.

Here’s a lie to you: it never came. If it did, it was a thick lie. Black like the night sky, not even close to a white lie. No, white lies during Christmas shopping are something like “I buy them chocolate because no one probably will buy that,” when the truth is that every single person will buy chocolate. Then you go there buying chocolate because these so-called no-one-else’s will not do it. When they will. They always will.

Nothing bad about chocolate. Who doesn’t love chocolate? During Christmas times, they sold so many different types of chocolate getting one pack of each was a reason to celebrate too. Could never have enough. But you were the kind of person who wanted to give something else and chocolate. Chocolate was a nice plus. You knew the faces of “you only gave me chocolate” as well as the “you gave me chocolate too!” and there were pros and cons with both. This time you wanted the latter.

In short, you had zero Christmas spirit in you.

This time you didn’t have to try to survive in the Christmas rush on your own. Ryan had come to you for the holidays, a week before, so – like he said – he could be there for you from worse to better. Seemed like he hated the rush too. That was one of the reasons why he lived the life he did. To get away from the rushes of life, not having to deal with it all; when he sat down to play his guitar and sing to people, there was always this aspect of seeing everyone else’s rush but not having one himself. He sometimes wanted to try it.

This was the time for him to try it. Besides, it was the first Christmas he was about to spend with you, so it was special. He didn’t want to miss a single second of it.

When you walked to the entrance of a big department store, he could see, sense, almost feel how much you disliked this.

“Hey,” he caught your attention, “it’ll be fine. It’ll be fun,” during the last sentence, his eyes started to sparkle a little as he put more effort on the words.

You found yourself smiling at him. “Sure,” you said with exhaustion in your voice.

Ryan took your hand in his. “It will be. We will make it fun, okay?”

You nodded. He smiled and seemed to be satisfied with that little gesture and the sigh of okay you let out after his words. He squeezed your hand tighter in his as you two finally stepped inside the department store.

There were a lot of people there but not so much you had thought there would be, and the place was full of the Christmas song playing from the speakers on the ceiling. You were able to walk around without getting stuck anywhere, and Ryan’s hand in yours kept you grounded and with him. It took a while but after you found yourself smiling with him every time he noticed and pointed at something.

“How about that one?” he pointed at a big dog plushie, big enough for you to sleep on.

“She already has a big cat. And I will never be able to find so much paper that’ll be enough to wrap that one in.”

Ryan gave you a cute, true laugh. His laughter alone was enough to bring you happiness.

“What about that one over there?” he asked when you were still busy looking at his beautiful, sparkling eyes.

Ryan liked Christmas. Always had. During the recent years it had changed for him; he spent it with whoever he could, usually a friend. But this time – he spent it with you. He wouldn’t have been anywhere else.

“Which one?” you asked when you were finally brought back to this earth from the warmth of his eyes.

“That one up there,” he pointed at it with his free hand and started to walk you towards it, stepping slightly ahead of you. “This one, she could like this very much. Who says it only has to be around for Christmas?”

“Ryan dear, it has snow and Santa with his reindeer. Even Rudolph is there!”

“Well, still,” Ryan said as he stopped by the shelf. It was on top of it, even he couldn’t reach it. He wasn’t exactly a short man but now he had to face the fact that he, in fact, was a short man when it came to Christmas.

He tried to jump and rise on his toes, but nothing helped.

“We could ask for a stool… or someone to bring it down for us?” you said as you looked at Ryan’s desperate tries to get the box to move to get it down.

It was a Christmas village decoration with a big, brown house in the center. On the roof of it was Santa with his reindeer, Rudolph as the leader. There were children playing in the yard and with some batteries you could get led lights and they’d even move a little. There was an unboxed one to show in a showcase next to the shelf. You went to see it when Ryan still tried to solve the mystery of how to get the box down. While doing that, you momentarily let go of his hand, knowing you’d be holding it soon again.

“Ryan, look! Rudolph’s nose is red!” you laughed as you looked at the village. Rudolph’s nose really got a red light when the village was turned on with batteries inside.

You could hear Ryan’s laugh. “Really? Let me see,” he came next to you. You could feel his shoulder touching yours as he stood there. What you didn’t see as you were focused on watching the village decoration was that Ryan was looking at you. And he knew, he just knew you had found the lost sparkle of Christmas spirit in you when you watched all the decorations in the showcase.

“Let’s get this one for your mom,” he said and pointed at the one with Santa and the reindeer.

“How can we get the box from up there?” you looked at him as you asked in a little sad voice.

“I think I know how,” Ryan had a grin on his lips. You looked into his eyes, then at the grin and then back into his eyes. “Come,” he said and took your hand again to get you back to the shelf with the boxes.

You stood there, a little lost, looking up at the one you wanted, feeling Ryan’s eyes on you.

There was this thinking silence between you and him for a while as you tried to figure out what he had in mind.

Then he said it, getting all your attention with only one syllable.

“Climb on my shoulders,” his smile was so boyish and cute you couldn’t help but join in. He still somehow found a small piece of doubt from it. “I’m serious, climb on my shoulders.”

“You cannot be – “

“I already said it, I’m serious. Climb on my shoulders, Y/N. We’ll get the box down that way.”

You looked at him and then up at the box. It’d make you sad if you didn’t buy that for your mom. Something else would’ve been nice, yes, but you knew she’d like this a lot. You had to get it. Since there was no one nearby who could help you, there was no other choice. You could feel how the adventurous side took over you.

He crouched down, so it was easier for you to climb on his shoulders. When you got there, he took a hold of your legs, so you wouldn’t fall.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you answered in a strong voice, and Ryan stood up.

You had to hold his head with your hand to not lose balance, but it got easier in mere seconds. You were tall enough to get the box. When you got it to your hands, you held it tightly, looking at it like you could hold it even tighter that way, so you really wouldn’t drop it.

Ryan looked up to see did you have the box and when he saw you did, he took a step back, so you could hold it to you, and he could get you back down. When you stood safely in front of him again, he looked at how happy you were with the big, red box that showed the picture of the lighted decoration.

He knew exactly what to do to keep that happiness.

“I think we’re gonna need a shopping cart. Carrying that around will be a little hard,” he said as he looked up at the shelf you had gotten it from. One box was missing.

There was a topic for someone to wonder: how had someone gotten it down?

“I’ll get it,” you said almost immediately. “Will you wait here?”

“I’ll be right here,” he nodded, “with the box.”

He adored that joy in your spirit that had suddenly rose up after so many sighs and doubts. So little things needed for that…

You set the box down on some bigger ones that had these standing reindeers and gave a kiss on his cheek. “I’ll be back in just a minute,” you promised, and he nodded.

“I’ll be here.”

When you went to get the cart, he looked down at the box and then turned around to see all the smaller ones. He went to the showcase to see them all again and a new smile rose on his lips as he was sure he had found the one. His gaze scanned through the boxes on the lower shelves until he found it, much smaller box but not less cute. He got it behind the bigger one, so you wouldn’t see it when you came.

He waited for you for a moment, watching people going through the nearest sections, talking to each other, children getting excited over something they saw and parents trying to decide what to buy for Christmas for the children at home. Some people were alone, just walking past everything to the sections they needed something from. One man bought light bulbs and ended up taking a silver bird decoration with him too. Ryan smiled. But then the man took a candle too, and Ryan suddenly felt sad. Was it possible he bought a decoration for someone’s grave; a loved one he had lost? His gaze went back to the joyful children with their parents. Then he, like by an instinct, turned to see you coming with the shopping cart and smiled again.

“Sorry, it took a while, everyone was getting their carts at the same time,” you said as you stopped by the boxes, just far enough not to see what Ryan had hidden behind the bigger one you had gotten down.

“No problem, I’ve been looking at what else they’ve got here.”

You smiled to him and walked closer to the box to move it in the cart. “They have quite a lot of stuff around here. Especially during the Christmas time.”

“They do. I’m sure everyone can find something for their loved ones to bring some joy and to return the lost spirit,” Ryan spoke as he looked at you putting the box in the cart. He was smiling. You’d see it when you’d turn. Just a few seconds…

“That sounded beautiful. Return the lost spirit,” you said as you got the box nicely in the cart. Then you turned.

There was a smaller box there. It hadn’t been there when you had put the bigger one there, you were sure. You would’ve needed to move it to get yours there. It was a similar village decoration, except that this one had a smaller house and a car. There was a Christmas tree on the roof of the red Fiat 600, and a fox was peeking from the corner of the house. The house had lights on the windows and the railings of the stairs that led to the door, the car’s lights were warmly yellow. There was a small tree by the fox and it had lights too, in many colors.

Ryan noticed how you looked at it. “Return the lost spirit… I see how happy all these decorations make you. This one reminded me of you,” his voice was soft and tender, the smile on his lips sweet and happy.

“Is this for me?” you asked as you looked at him and not at the box anymore.

“It is for you,” he said with a nod of his head. He put his slightly overgrown hair behind his ear shyly, put his cap better. The smile remained. He blinked his dark pair of eyes as he nodded again. “It is for you, Y/N.”

“Ryan…” you whispered. “This is…”

“I know it’s just a decoration, but they all made you so happy. Now you know one of your presents as well, but I just couldn’t… I cannot leave it, much like you cannot leave the…”

“Thank you,” you went to hug him. He wrapped his own arms around you tightly, one hand finding the back of your head.

You knew it was a decoration you’d only have around for Christmas, but the thought behind it was so meaningful. The person who gave it to you. That was the part that made you so happy: you didn’t expect Ryan getting you anything, but he was being so genuine, so cute about it that you didn’t have a heart to stop him. He didn’t have much and still he wanted to give you something like that.

You stayed like that for a moment until you heard his voice whispering somewhere by your head. “There’s a mistletoe. Should we… You know?”

You tittered. “You’re so silly…”

“No, for real, there is one. Should we…?” You could hear how he smiled.

You parted from him just enough to look up at him properly. He still smiled and it made you smile too. “Where?” Like you needed to know. You were playing along.

“Over there,” he said absentmindedly. You didn’t believe for a moment there even was one. Ryan was a playful guy when he wanted to, and it was sweet how he wanted to cheer you up.

You leaned in to kiss him on the lips. He returned the kiss without any hesitation, so pure and sweet like his words, like he was as himself. It went on for a moment and afterwards you leaned your forehead against his, stayed there for a handful of breaths. Looking up at him, you moved and let him put the smaller box, your box, in the cart next to the bigger one meant for your mom.

“I’m gonna get yours wrapped too. You cannot play with it before Christmas,” he said as he started to push the cart and you walked beside him.

“That’s cute. We have to buy the batteries; the box doesn’t probably have them.”

“Most likely not,” he found the right direction and you followed, grinning. “What?” he asked.

“I know what I’m going to buy for you.”

“I don’t ask for anything, you know that.”

“I know and so did you, but still you’re buying this.”

“I don’t buy this to get something back.”

“I know. I still will.”

“Will you tell me what it is?” he asked with a mischievous smile on his lips. One of his cutest ones.

You shook your head. “It’s gonna be a secret. But it will have lots of spirit,” you looked at him.

He chuckled at you this time and touched your arm with his hand, thanking you in advance. He kept asking about it like a kid for the rest of the time at the department store. It wasn’t something you were going to buy from there.

It was something much better.

Not much later you found out there was, indeed, a mistletoe. Considering Ryan gave you many kisses during the time at the department store, there was never any mistletoe needed. He bought a Christmas hat and that, if something, was enough to keep the spirit up. You couldn’t stop laughing at him.

You knew that during the holidays spent with him, your spirit would never get lost again.

*****

Tag List: @padfootagain​ @billrussos​ @jennareedus​ @mamaraptor​ @suchatinyinfinity​ @delicatelilyflower​ @whostheblondegirl​ @carol-damn-vers​ @dylanobrusso​ @keithseabrook27​ @something-tofightfor​ @shinebrightlikeafanbase​ @drinix​

Inform me if you want to be added or removed!

[banditthewriter]

Ryan Brenner’s Soulmate

Another one of my soulmate oneshots for my anniversary! 

Trope: They are only able to see in black and white until they meet their soulmate.

Tags are at the bottom. Let me know if you would like to be added to one of my tag lists!

*gif not mine*

Enjoy!

*****

The world in black and white wasn’t as bad as some people made it out to be. Granted some of that came from the frustration and stigma that surrounded people who could not see in color.

Somewhere in the world you knew that your soulmate was also seeing in black and white. That helped you accept the reality a lot easier than most people in your situation. You weren’t alone in the world, not really.

As you pulled on your uniform for the diner, you wondered what your soulmate thought about the black and white life they lived in. Did they dream of the day they would see colors? Did they wonder what you looked like? Did they struggle with their black and white life like you knew some people did?

Did they even care?

Not everyone wanted a soulmate. You’d read plenty of stories about a person who would meet their soulmate and, with their world now lit up in every color of the rainbow, would disappear without a trace.

The walk to the diner was mostly in a wooded area, but you didn’t mind. Few cars went down the road that led to your neighborhood so you walked along the street, your eyes eating up the scenery. A game you sometimes played with yourself is naming the colors that you knew existed in the world but that you wouldn’t be able to pick out when you first got your colored vision.

Red. Green. Blue. Purple. Yellow. Orange. 

Then there would be other colors, like magenta and violet and seafoam. You knew the names of all of the colors and you couldn’t wait until you could identify them all.

The diner that you worked at was called Mikey’s. The sign was large and flickered. You were told the background of the sign was green, but of course you just had to take their word for it. It was tucked into a little side street but it was usually pretty busy. This close to the train station, you got a lot of drifters and tourists.

People loved coming to small towns. You didn’t understand the appeal. You’d leave if you could.

Today the diner was pretty quiet, a few people sprinkled around different tables and booths. Once you were inside, you moved around comfortably. Tea for table three, extra fries for booth six, more silverware for table seven, glasses of water for table one, bring food out to booth five.

It was something you had done for years and it only required half of your attention. The rest of you looked around for any of the new people in the diner. Would they be your soulmate? But every time you met their eyes and everything stayed dim, you felt that flicker in the pit of your stomach.

You wanted to meet your soulmate for more than just the colors that would come. You wanted to meet them because you were ready to fall in love, you yearned for it. How long until you would get that chance? 

The day ticked on more and more until it was time to close up. You swept the floor, stacked the chairs, and told Mikey you’d see him tomorrow. The walk home was dark and lonely, but you were used to it.

Today was not the day that you’d meet your soulmate but maybe tomorrow. 

Just like always, you hoped your soulmate had a good evening.

------

The diner was fairly empty as the clock said that it was almost time to close up. You moved around the tables and cleared off what you could, smiling at the regulars and checking on the people you didn’t recognize. It had been a long day and you were ready to get off of your feet.

The bell over the door made you look up. A man walked in with a hat pulled down over his eyes, a bag on his back and a guitar case hanging from his hand. You watched the other waitress greet him and get his order.

“He’s handsome,” Kelly said as she joined you on the other side of the counter, her eyes darting over to the man who was curled into himself a bit. “Kinda quiet, but I don’t mind that.”

You flicked her wrist with a laugh.

“I’m guessing you aren’t seeing the rainbow,” you said, using the phrase most people used for when they met their soulmate.

“No, but I’d still like to see more of him.”

Kelly was relentless. A lot of people didn’t mind sleeping with someone even if they weren’t soulmates, but that had never been what you wanted to do. You preferred to wait until you either found someone you loved, color or no, or found your soulmate.

A little while later, Kelly had stepped out back for a smoke break before it was time to close up. You watched a few of the last people leave. It left an older couple in the back and the newbie. You hovered near the counter, not wanting to step on Kelly’s toes. You’d seen her flirting, but she hadn’t seemed to have much luck.

You didn’t want to flirt with the newcomer, but you did want to check if he needed a top up on his coffee. Maybe a to go cup because he looked exhausted.

With one of the to go cups in hand, you went to the coffee maker and poured it in. You’d leave room for sugar and creamer, but you grabbed one of the cardboard sleeves and a lid. Then you headed over to where the newcomer was sitting.

“Thought you could use a pick me up,” you said as you bent down to grab a few napkins to wipe up a few droplets that you spilled. “It’s on the house. You just look like you’re…”

You met his eyes as you handed over the cup and the moment your eyes met his, you felt like you were in the middle of an explosion. Color. The world was washed in brightness, despite the late hour. 

The color of the booths was hideous. Mikey really needed to change that.

“Oh,” you breathed as you put the cup down and slumped against the counter. “Uh, hi? I’m uh… I’m Y/N.”

The man seemed just as shocked as you, but his eyes weren’t moving over the diner like yours had been. No, he was looking at you. You looked down and winced when you realized that your uniform was a pretty ugly color as well.

“I’m Ryan,” he said, his voice soft and low. It made you look back up at him. “I’m… I was heading out tonight, but I think maybe I should stay.”

You laughed and closed your eyes, feeling your heart race in your chest.

“I hope you do.”

------

Kelly was disappointed that the newcomer was spoken for, but she wasn’t upset. In fact she squealed so loud that Mikey came running thinking that she’d seen a mouse.

Ryan had laughed, the sound so perfect that it melted you down to your toes.

------

Mikey gave you the next day off so that you and Ryan could get to know each other. You took him around town, showing him the sights of the place where you had been born and raised. The two of you talked for hours, learning as much about each other as you could in such a short time.

He was a drifter, hopping trains around the country. He didn’t have a permanent address, didn’t have a permanent anything. You felt the apprehension of it in your chest, the knowledge that he would be leaving at some point hanging over your head as the two of you spent the day together.

He noticed it as well.

“You’re worried about something,” he said as he sat down next to you on a bench, both of you surrounded by what felt like a hundred different colors in the middle of the park.

“You’ll be leaving,” you said quietly as you looked down at your hands. The hands of a waitress who had never left her hometown. “You’ll get on a train and go to the next city or town and you’ll… maybe you won’t come back. There’s not much here to catch the interest of someone who can go anywhere he wants to.”

Ryan’s dark brown eyes moved over you carefully. You’d looked up the colors the night before because you wanted to know what color his eyes were. They almost looked black, a color you had become more than accustomed to.

They were brown. Dark, dark brown.

He reached out one hand to cover yours. You stared down at the tattoos on his fingers until his other hand tilted your face up.

“I’ve been traveling around the country because I never felt like I had a home. Didn’t think I’d ever meet my soulmate and I’d live in a black and white world. Why would I leave when I have you here?” Before you could reiterate that your town was small, he shook his head and squeezed your hand. “Wherever we are? That’s the most interesting place in the world to me.”

You felt warmth flood you at his words and the sincerity in his voice. You eased your head down to his shoulder and closed your eyes. 

------

The bedroom was dark. At night, with barely any light filtering in through your curtains, your room reminded you of the time before you met Ryan. Black, white, shades of grey; nothing was distinguishable in the night.

Except now you knew that your bedding was yellow and violet, your walls were cream, the painting on the wall showed dozens of colors that could be found in a forest. You knew that the guitar case that was propped up in the chair in the corner had stickers on it, each one more colorful than the last.

You rolled over to face Ryan. His eyes were closed, his chest moving up and down with his slow breaths. It had been two months since you’d seen the rainbow. It seemed that he had meant it when he said that he wasn’t going to go anywhere else. He did odd jobs around town to afford a room in the one motel that only had five rooms available. 

These days he stayed the night with you more often than not. You were starting to think he might as well stop renting the room at the motel and just move in.

His tattoos drew your eyes. There wasn’t any color on most of them, black ink only. You had traced your fingers over most of them plenty of times already, learned the curves and lines of them so that you could probably draw them with your eyes closed. 

“You should be asleep,” he said as he rolled over and draped his arm over your waist, tugging you in close to him. “It’s late. You’ve got a shift tomorrow.”

You snuggled into his side, your hand over his chest. The skin under your hand was warm to the touch. 

“I want to travel with you,” you said quietly, earning a surprised noise from him. “I’ve never left this zip code for more than a day trip. I’m not saying we have to go around the country, but let’s at least go away for a long weekend.”

Ryan’s eyes opened as he curled you in closer to him. Your faces were a few inches apart. He stared at you for a long moment in which the silence stretched on for what seemed like forever.

“If you wanna travel around the country together, I’m not going to say no. I just don’t want you to do it because it’s what you think I want.”

You propped your head up on your hand as you looked down at Ryan. He looked so good like this, his dark hair falling over his forehead and his face relaxed, sleep still tugging at him.

“There’s so much to see,” you said quietly into the dark of the room, “and I want to see it with you.”

After another long silent moment, Ryan tugged you in for a kiss.

“Then that’s what we’ll do. We’ll get a car, pack some bags, and go explore.” He rolled the two of you over so that he could curl himself around you. “Wherever you are, that’s home to me.”

You closed your eyes and let your body relax. It would take some planning, but you knew it would be worth it. The world was full of colors and you wanted to see every one of them with Ryan at your side.

X

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[fantomcomics]

What’s Out This Week? 1/8

It’s been a minute since we’ve had so many number 1s, but it’s a veritable avalanche of awesomeness!

Miles Morales: The End #1 - Saladin Ahmed and Damion Scott

Humanity makes its last stand in the only place strong enough to survive: BROOKLYN. Former Spider-Man, Miles Morales, leads the last bastion of civilization into the future!

Firefly: The Outlaw Ma Reynolds #1 - Greg Pak and Davide Gianfelice

After the shocking conclusion of Mal's journey with Boss Moon, Mal hands himself into the Alliance...but it turns out its not him they want. The infamous Ma Reynolds is at the top of the Alliance's Most Wanted, and if Mal doesn't get to her first, the Alliance will! Kicking off a new year of Firefly, discover the secret history of Mal and his mother, and what that will mean for the rest of the 'verse...and a new brewing war to end all wars.

Daphne Byrne #1 (of 6) - Laura Marks and Kelley Jones

In the gaslit splendor of late 19th-century New York, rage builds inside 14-year-old Daphne. The sudden death of her father has left her alone with her irresponsible, grief-stricken mother-who becomes easy prey for a group of occultists promising to contact her dead husband. While fighting to disentangle her mother from these charlatans, Daphne begins to sense a strange, insidious presence in her own body...an entity with unspeakable appetites. What does "Brother" want? And could she even stop him if she tried?

Stranger Things: Into The Fire #1 (of 4) - Jody Houser, Ryan Kelly and Le Beau L. Underwood

Years after escaping Hawkins Lab, two of Dr. Brenner's former subjects seek to live normal lives. When news reaches them that the lab was shut down, they go on a harrowing search for Nine, a powerful pyrokinetic whose shattered psyche threatens to burn them all to ashes if they can't find her and free her from her own malevolent imagination.

The Clock #1 (of 4) - Matt Hawkins and Colleen Doran

Within three weeks, hundreds of millions of healthy people worldwide contract various forms of aggressive cancer, and the proliferation, seemingly a viral outbreak, stumps the best scientific minds available. But after a leading cancer researcher loses his wife and watches his nine-year-old daughter begin to succumb to the same illness, he must race against the clock to end a global conspiracy that could propel the world straight into WWIII...or worse.

White Ash #1 - Charlie Stickney and Conor Hughes

Welcome to White Ash, a small smudge of a town in western Pennsylvania, where mining is a generational calling and the secrets are buried deeper than the coal in the mountain. As Aleck Zwerg tries to escape that legacy and head off to college, he falls into the orbit of the enigmatic Lillian Alden. Together, they race down a dangerous path, leading Aleck to uncover a secret about his family that changes everything he knows about himself and White Ash. And now, if he leaves, there will be no one left to protect the people of the town from an ancient evil that has just returned.

Marvels X #1 (of 6) - Alex Ross, Jim Krueger and Well-Bee

David has a problem.  He lives in a world of monsters that would love to devour him.  He's the last boy on Earth.  The last human being on Earth.  And these creatures that see him only as prey, they're his former neighbors.  He has one hope:  to get to New York.  To get to where Captain America and the rest of the heroes are.  Alex Ross and Jim Krueger combine their abilities with artist Well-Bee to tell a very uncanny prequel to the legendary EARTH X trilogy.

So whatcha scooping up this week, Fantomites?

[benbarnesfrustration]

Cady’s Awakening, Part 1

A Ben Barnes Character Fic.

A Ryan Brenner x Cady (third person) story. This is a very late contribution to @banditthewriter​‘s Ben Barnes Bingo Challenge.  Life got away from me for a bit, so I’m posting this first installment to hold myself accountable to finish. Enjoy!

Synopsis: Cady is a carefree girl who longs for the open road. Does she find her counterpart in a tall, dark hitchhiker?

Rated PG. We haven’t gotten into much fluff yet, but this is a squeaky clean as it gets.

Cady heaved the last sack of grain into the back of her pickup truck, landing it with a heavy whump. She stepped back and wiped a trickle of sweat from her brow. It was usually hot in Timbercreek Canyon, but in July it was damned hot, and the sun was relentless.

About 15 miles south of Amarillo, Timbercreek Canyon is a veritable oasis in the arid Texas desert, providing much-needed irrigation to the many ranches that have sprung up as a result.  Cady’s family ran one of them, Palomino Ridge Ranch. There, horses, cattle, pigs and chickens were raised and sold.  Cady had been helping out at the ranch since she could walk, and stood to inherit from her parents, as she was their only child. However, Cady had her doubts. She’d barely been out of Texas except for ranch business, and wasn’t sure she wanted a future as a rancher without experiencing more of the great wide world.

Cady’s father was sending her to Pigeon Forge, Tennessee, in the shadow of the Smoky Mountains. She was to deliver several bushels of rye meal and sorghum to a few stops along the way, and upon arrival, collect a thoroughbred stallion to bring back for breeding. It would be a long trip, at least eighteen hours each way, not including stops, but Cady was looking forward to it. She loved the open road and the chance to get out of Texas and see more of the country, and having the wind in her hair as she sang along loudly to her favorite country and blues standards.

She loaded up the rest of her supplies, waved goodbye to her folks, and set out. It was only noon, so she should be able to get a couple of deliveries out of the way before she would need to stop for the night. She drove along, singing and humming along to her tunes; perfectly content.  A few hours later, not long after she made her first drop off, she was surprised to see what appeared to be a young man in the distance, walking along the road. Texas was flat, so she could see him quite a ways out, and she saw him turn and stick out his thumb when he heard the sound of her engine. I’ll be damned, she thought to herself. You don’t see too many hitchhikers around here. She felt a pang of pity for the man. It was hot as hell out here, and there wasn’t another town for miles and miles.  Normally she wouldn’t entertain such a notion as communicating with a hitchhiker, but she legitimately worried about the guy’s safety, so she slowed as she approached him. 

She pulled over to the side of the road, slid over to the passenger side, and leaned out of the window.  She was struck dumb for a moment when she looked the man full in the face. Well that is one good looking fella, she thought. Dark scruffy hair and dark eyes, he was quite literally the definition of “tall dark and handsome,” only he looked like he’d been sleeping rough for a while. He smiled warmly at her, and pushed up the brim of his baseball cap to better see her. Cady noticed he had tattoos on his fingers and arms. I wonder where else he’s got them, she thought devilishly, before pushing that thought aside.  “Miss,” he greeted her politely.

“Well you’re taking your ass in your hands setting out on this road on a day like this,” she chided, but without real bite. He smiled wider, relaxing at her joke.

“I’m afraid I didn’t think this through,” he replied, his smile touching his eyes. He had a vague drawl that Cady couldn’t quite place. Is that West Virginia? Kentucky? He pulled off his hat and swiped his forearm across his sweaty brow. “I don’t suppose you can let me climb in the back of your truck and ride along with you a while? The breeze would do me good.”

Cady thought a moment. She was by no means a clueless girl, and knew that picking up a hitchhiker was a reckless thing to do. But he had kindness in his eyes, and there was just no faking that. “You can ride in the cab with me,” she said. “Get you out of the sun and into the AC for a bit.”

The man nodded, his face more somber. “Thank you miss,” he replied softly. “I’m so grateful.”  He swung his case– which Cady was only now realizing was a guitar case– into the back of the truck along with a worn backpack, and hopped into the truck. Cady cranked the AC, and the man slumped back, a blissful smile on his lips. It made him look quite angelic. “Ahhhh,” the man sighed. “This is nice.”

Cady handed over a bottle of water. “Here, swig on this. You’re probably pretty dehydrated. I’m Cady, by the way.”  The man took the bottle of water with a nod. “Thank you Cady. I’m Ryan. Pleased to meet you.”  Cady smiled at the man– Ryan.  “Now you just sit back and relax,” she said. “How far do you need to go?”  Ryan shrugged. “I don’t really have a destination. I sort of just…go.”

Cady blinked in surprise. Was this guy a drifter? A homeless? While she was surprised, she was no more concerned than she was a moment before. She wondered if she was being very stupid.  

“You just set out and see where the road takes you huh? I kinda like that. Sounds freeing.”

Ryan smiled. “It is, but it’s not without its challenges for sure. Like the pickle I found myself in today…I must say thank you again.”

Cady smiled. “Think nothing of it. I would just be grateful if you would repay my kindness by not stabbing me,” she laughed as she put the truck into gear. “You don’t seem the sort, but you never know.”  

Ryan laughed in return. “Don’t worry Cady, I don’t intend to.”

                                                      *****

They rode on for hours, the time falling away quickly as they talked. Conversation was easy with them. They shared a similar temperament; an ease of manner, and a curiosity about the world. Cady learned that Ryan was a musician, and he usually busked or looked for gigs while he was on the road for extra cash. Cady told Ryan all about her family and ranching, but also spoke of her doubts when it came to her own future in the field. Ryan listened intently, nodding along, contributing platitudes where necessary.  As the sun waned toward evening, Cady pulled into a Waffle House parking lot.  “You hungry?” She asked.

“Starving,” he replied with a smile.  

“Come on then,” Cady said. “I’ll buy you some dinner.”

Ryan’s smile faltered. “I have some money,” he said softly. 

Cady turned to look at him. “I wasn’t suggesting you didn’t,” she replied brightly. “Only that I’d like to buy dinner. Now come on!”

Ryan followed her into the restaurant, where they both soon tucked into breakfast for dinner, as it was what Waffle House was known for; eggs, pancakes, grits, hash browns, bacon, the whole nine yards. They spoke as much as they could as they tucked away the meal.  When they were done, Cady and Ryan walked back to the truck. She paused at the door. “Ryan,” she asked, “what’s the plan? I’m heading all the way to Pigeon Forge, Tennessee, and I have another ten plus hours on the road ahead of me. I was planning to stop for the night in a couple of hours. I usually just pull off onto a secluded road and sleep in the truck, but you’re welcome to sleep in the back of the truck.

Cady felt a small amount of apprehension creep into her mind. Not because she was worried about Ryan, but because….she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was. But Ryan gave her a funny feeling in the pit of her tummy. The way his big dark eyes locked onto hers while they spoke over dinner. The way his smile lit up his face. The way his soul seemed to speak to hers.

She realized with a jolt that the apprehension she was feeling was a fear that they would part ways. That he would be gone from her life. Oh shit– Cady thought to herself. Am I falling for this guy? 

She waited for him to respond, as he had paused to think– or perhaps to calculate a response.

“Cady–” he started, paused, then started over. “Cady, I don’t want to impose, but I’d like to go all the way with you.”

They both seemed to realize how that sounded at the same time. Cady stifled a giggle while Ryan looked horrified. “I mean! Oh lord. No. I mean, I’d like to travel as far as you have to go, if that’s alright with you.” He put his face in his hands and groaned.  Cady laughed. “Relax, I’d be happy to have you.” She put a hand on his arm. “I know that wasn’t what you meant.” 

Would it be so bad if it was?

                                                      *****

They rode on in contented silence for a while before Cady turned to Ryan and asked, “so I’ve been trying to figure out where you’re from, but I just can’t place your accent. I give up,” she chuckled.

“Utah,” Ryan replied. “That’s where I grew up and sort of what I consider home base, but I don’t like to stay in one place too long.”

“Do you still have friends and family there?”

“Some,” Ryan nodded. “A lot of folks have moved on. I’m from a small town and there isn’t much opportunity there.” He shrugged. “It’s beautiful though, surrounded by snow capped mountains and lush forests.”

Cady laughed. “That’s basically the opposite of where I live! It’s the canyonlands of central Texas, practically the desert. Hot, flat, and dry. I spent my childhood chasing lizards and roadrunners.”

“Well we have some of that in Utah, but not the part where I’m from,” Ryan added. “Jumping into creeks and riding horses was what I got up to as a kid.”

“Horses, well that’s something we have in common then,” Cady grinned.  “That’s actually the purpose of going to Kentucky. Sell grain along the way, come home with a new thoroughbred.”

“That must be exciting,” Ryan replied. “Seeing the country and petting horses sounds pretty great.”

“It is, but–” Cady broke off, thinking.  “I’m still doing a job. I’m not free to do as I like. Like you.”

“True,” Ryan said, “but it’d be nice to have someone to go home to. A real family, a place I wanted to put down roots. Now, whenever I’m home, I just can’t wait to hit the road again.”

“So you have nobody that makes you feel like you’re home?”

Ryan turned to fix Cady with his dark eyes. There was something about his spirit that spoke directly to her soul.

“Not yet,” he replied, and smiled.

(to be continued…)

@banditthewriter​